Missing My Man
by harrys-sad-fish
Summary: A horrible accident rips Chakotay from Seven. Can she ever recover from the loss?... And is it as final as she thinks?
1. Default Chapter

Seven of Nine's life had never been a kind one. Her years as a Borg assured her an awkward and disjointed fit with life. Every new day was a struggle; she would say the wrong thing, take the wrong action, watch amusement that she often equated with contempt glint in the eyes of observers.

But he had changed that.

It was just an experiment, initially. She never honestly believed he would see her in that light. When she overcame her initial misgivings, she asked him to dinner expecting an answer in the negative.

But he smiled in answer. "I thought you'd never ask."

Two years passed from that first moment, the few seconds she thought perhaps life as not so cruel after all. The worst—the hardest and the cruelest years were all behind her. He loved her, she felt the exotic bliss of loving him, and the day they married it seemed there was something great in the universe smiling upon her.

And then there was the accident.

The anxiety clutched at her throat for three days as they labored over his broken body. The Doctor's grim, dark eyes and strained expression offered no consolation.

"Even if he survives this," he confessed quietly as she waited anxiously by the sick bed, "I can't guarantee he'll be the Chakotay you knew. The brain damage—it's very severe."

If he survives. She didn't hear the rest. The next several days found her wilting by the foot of his bed, keeping a silent vigil, instinctively knowing the moment rest claimed her something permanent would steal his life away.

When her eyes finally dropped closed like leaden weights, she quickly was awoken by the frantic movement of the Doctor, working frenetically by Chakotay's side.

"What is it?" she cried, lancing to her feet. He was going to die; she just knew it.

The Doctor turned to her, a compassionate softness lingering on his lips. "He's out of the danger zone, but..."

"But what?"

"His cognitive functions are severely impaired."

She reached out to gently grasp her husband's large hand, her eyes tearing in relief. "Thank you, doctor. For saving him."

He watched her sadly for a long moment; as he turned to leave her, she could hear him say quietly, "I haven't."

Chakotay had not died, not in the strictest sense. But everything that was her husband had. He stared at her blankly, spoke incoherently, seemed to have difficulty grasping the most basic concepts.

He remained in his bedroom most days, gazing listlessly out at the stars as they crept by. Sometimes she'd come in to find him doing a child's craft project one of his friends brought over—coloring a picture, doing pottery.

"Is my baby hot stuff!" he would greet her with a goofy grin, showing a picture of a distorted female form. "See—jumbalayas—big like you's."

"Indeed," she would reply patiently, despite the fact that each day slowly eroded her hope, her trust, her endurance.

"Hee!" he'd cry, reaching out to grab her breasts. "So big! Like moons!"

She'd pry him off, force him back into his chair, and wipe the drool from his lips with her thumb. "I enjoy your drawing," she'd say, trying to change the subject. "It is aesthetically pleasing."

Chakotay smiled with guileless pleasure, and returned to his coloring. She watched her husband completing this child's task with such pleasure, and briefly their nights of making love flashed through her mind—their quiet conversations, their stolen moments. If she just gazed at his powerful shoulders and ignored the simple expression on his face, she could almost pretend it was still him. Those fleeting moments she had not taken the time to relish—how her heart wrenched at the thought of them now.

"I miss you," she whispered to the air.

But she had lost him. He was gone forever. 


	2. Part Two

MISS

CHAKOTAY POV

What I miss most is big jumbalayas! So big like moon.

Oh my baby hotstuff. I love such big majambas. Like you's.

Hey why we no go out no more?" I shout. But you look like fish to me, answer only with sighs and kiss hand. "Doctor is love to me." Say you.

But I says "No! Wrong. You's wrong like fish."

But Seven your Jumbalayas were so big! But now they small. Small like acorn.

I miss pretty jumbalayas. New girlfriend-little boobies. I like big. Squishy like popcorn.

You like a fish to me. Fishy small that I miss. 


	3. Chapter 3

The first time she cheated on him, it was with the recently divorced Tom Paris. The second time, with a very drunk Janeway.

"Oh, God, this is awful," Janeway moaned, her hands clamped over her eyes, her hair sticking up in every single direction. "You're like a daughter to me; you're my best friend's wife; I'm not a lesbian."

"Of course, Jane Jane," Seven said, patting her hair back into an immaculate bun, trying to assure herself this wouldn't be awkward.

The days dragged on like burdens, a toil resting upon her slim shoulders. She tried to remember a time she wasn't filled with this all-consuming emptiness. She closed her eyes and her mind couldn't help but return to the man she'd loved.

"I am finished with emotions," she informed the Doctor crisply one morning when he visited her in astrometrics. "They are… too difficult."

"Seven—"

She shrugged off the hand he rested on her back.

"I loved Chakotay," she said. "And yet… you saw what happened to him."

A strange stinging sensation assailed her eyes. She blinked rapidly to dispel it, wondering at that feeling, at the tightness in her gut and the despair welling inside her chest.

"It was not meant to be. I am not meant to be human. Nor happy."

"Seven…"

She slept with Harry Kim next, feeling his clumsy lips on her breasts and trying not to remember Chakotay's fumbling attempts at lovemaking.

"Look, this is awkward," Janeway said one day after summoning her to her ready room, "But, er, I'm growing very concerned, Seven. You're not yourself."

"Oh?" Seven asked sharply. "And you know who that is?"

Janeway appeared at a loss.

Seven again felt that stinging sensation in her eyes, and for the first time she realized she was fighting tears.

"I don't even know who that is now, Jane Jane!"

She turned and fled.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAKOTAY'S POV

I say her Joo-Joo Bear. She enjoys cheeses.

When I miss jumbalayas she goes to moon and cries. She would be happy if there were more moon pies. I give moon pies to doctor but he says no moons. Not in pies. I wish I give a kiss on the lipses but she say no no you is sick.

Oh my baby hotstuff why we no kiss?

NO no you is bad she always say. Bad is bad for me. My baby hotstuff no like my bajamba in her she say I am no man now but I like squishy boob.

I look at boobies and feel sadness. Big is good.

TBC


End file.
